


xoxo motherfucker

by Cala



Series: Gossip Girl AU [2]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Gossip Girl fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cala/pseuds/Cala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evan Wright decides to write a number of exposes about the rich and spoiled teenagers living on the Upper East Side. He gets more than he bargained for.</p><p>a.k.a. Generation KIll does Gossip Girl. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	xoxo motherfucker

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to kahtyasofia to beta. All remaining mistakes are mine

_Good morning Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here. Your one and only source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan's elite._

 _Although I've been informed recently, this may no longer be true. Apparently a certain Reporter decided to enter the territory of yours truly, and write a series of exposes on the real lives of our socialites. Haven't you heard, E? There can be only one, and Gossip Girl was there first._

 _Or maybe I should add him to the list and report his every misstep? What do you say, readers? Do you want to know exactly when and how Iceman will wipe the new annoyance off the face of the planet? That might turn out to be like one of those MTV reality shows that you just can't stop watching._

 _This fall might turn out to be highly entertaining after all. I'll keep you updated._

 _xoxo_

 _Gossip Girl_

\--

"I hope you really don't mind me." Evan Wright looked at the boys sitting with him on the Met steps.

"Shit, homes," Poke Espera smirked into his coffee, "if we start minding you, we'll just sic Person on you."

Everybody laughed, including Ray Person, who was half-lying on the steps, half-invading the personal space of Walt Hasser, or the Brooklyn Prince, as the online gossip guru tagged him.

"Not Iceman?" Evan opened his bag, where he kept all his research materials, including the stories posted online by Gossip Girl. "I heard that's the person I should be afraid of." And that was true. When he first decided to cover the unknown side of the Upper East Side rich kids, the first thing he was told was to never cross the Iceman. Brad Colbert, Evan learned, was the closest thing possible to Manhattan royalty. And every socialite knew and respected his rule.

"Fuck, Reporter, you need to consider your sources. That online whore only gets half of the shit right," Ray said pulling Walt closer to himself and licking the other boy's neck like they were all alone in a bedroom, and not in public with everybody watching.

Ray had a tendency to talk and talk and Evan valued all the information he was freely given. After filtering out all the swearing.

"See, she got it just right about me and my Walt. But Iceman's riding mostly on rep right now. It's the LT who really runs the show. Brad does what LT wants, and the rest of us do what Brad says, because he's one scary motherfucker."

Poke nodded his agreement. "Basically, we do as LT says. It's sad, since once again the white boy is running the show, but what can be done?"

Ah, finally, Evan thought, the boy he wanted to include in his articles. A scholarship student who, despite the economic background and attitude, seemed to have found his place among the rich and spoiled. Not only that, apparently he was the silent leader of the group. Something Evan wouldn't know if he only based his articles on hearsay and the Gossip Girl reportings.

"I was wondering," he sat more comfortably on the steps, "why LT? I mean, I did some research on the nicknames you all go by, and most of them make perfect sense...except for this one. There's nothing in Nate Fick's life that would explain it."

And there was laughter again, the group clearly entertained by that idea.

"The name is a perfect example of exactly how creative Gossip Girl is."

Evan turned just in time to see Brad and Nate fill the empty space on the steps Evan hadn’t even been aware of. It was as if the other boys made sure there was a spot for them before the rest even sat down.

"It's because Brad met Nate in a local. Teashop," Walt spoke up. "LT just rolls of the tongue nicely," he shrugged, which was quite an achievement with Ray's arms tightly around him.

"I hoped it would pass, but apparently it's amusing to some," said Nate, looking at Brad. In response Brad simply raised his eyebrow. They stayed like that for a second and Evan had a feeling that there was some sort of non-verbal communication going on. An inside joke, maybe. But when he looked at the other boys, none of them seemed to be paying any attention to those two.

"Technically it's Ray's fault. He's the one using all the nicknames Gossip Girl comes up with," Brad pointed out, but the smug expression on his face said he wasn't completely without blame there.

"Not my fucking fault. I just follow the fashion. And it's a nice change from being Joshua fucking Person."

"Yeah, dog, because it's so fucking hard to be filthy rich and powerful," Poke snorted into his coffee. "I don't even know how we manage that."

 

\--

 _Spotted:  
Our favorite boys chatting with E(nemy) on the Met steps. Boys, boys...didn't I tell you not to talk to strangers? It doesn't matter how good the candy is they offer, the taste always goes sour._

At some point, they all moved to Brad's, mostly because Ray insisted on quality alcohol and Nate asked if he could use the computer for some school related work. Nobody voiced an objection when Evan tagged along. He wondered if it was because they quickly accepted him into their little group or just ignored him.

Either way, he wasn't about to give up the full, inside access to their life. He did try his best not to get in anybody's way, just in case they changed their minds.

"I'm bored," Ray exclaimed, an hour into their drinking. Evan was nursing a really good and really expensive foreign beer, while Nate and Walk sat hunched over a laptop. Brad and Poke were the only ones who reacted to Ray's sudden statement, though Evan did open his notebook, ready to write down anything interesting.

“I was thinking we could order some Thai. I hear some new girls arrived recently, we should definitely sample that, see if the quality is as high as it used to be. I keep hoping for tentacles, but no such luck. Maybe because they’re not Japanese hookers, because Japan does really awesome tentacle porn. I watched this one thing, once, where this huge-ass monster had to fuck all these girls with its tentacles to release some energy to destroy the world. You have to respect that, you know? That they manage to make fucking relevant to the plot. It takes artistry, really.”

Evan couldn’t help himself and wrote it all down, knowing well enough that it would never appear in actual print, too graphic and vulgar for that, but it was still a priceless aspect of Person.

“Reporter, stop scribbling,” he heard Brad’s serious voice. “It encourages him.”

When Evan looked up, he saw that the Iceman wasn’t even looking at him, preoccupied with his Smartphone.

“He’s got a point though,” said Poke, finishing his glass of scotch. “You have an awesome stash, dog, but we should probably go out. Once Person gets drunk, I’d rather he vandalize public property than yours. I’m fond of your home entertainment system.”

“That shit’s a year old, or something.” Brad dismissed it as if the state of the art system they were talking about was from the eighties.

“Fuck you, man, I bought you that system. It’s sweet!”

Evan could tell, judging from Brad’s face, that the response to that would be something along the lines of ‘eh’. But before Brad could say anything, Nate slid into a spot next to him, apparently done with what he’d been doing online. And if Evan wasn’t already watching Brad Colbert closely, he would probably miss it entirely. But as it was, he witnessed an immediate shift in Colbert’s attention, from his Smartphone and the banter he was having with his friends, to Nate.

It wasn’t anything obvious, but Brad just _shifted_ , making space for Nate, making sure the other boy was comfortable. He handed him his own beer, and again, they shared that look Evan had seen when they were on the Met steps.

Nate took a long sip of the beer, his eyes never leaving Brad’s, even though the other boy seemed preoccupied with Nate’s lips wrapped around the bottle. Evan had to look away, feeling like he was intruding on something not meant for the public.

“We could go to Barrio Chino,” suggested Walt, from his spot at Brad’s computer.

“Shit, Hasser, that’s the most brilliant idea I’ve heard all day,” Poke announced with a happy grin.

“You’re just saying that because you know the pussy you’re chasing is going to be there.”

Evan had to duck to avoid the remote control that Poke threw at Ray, followed by a string of insults.

Brad watched his friends insult each other with an amused expression on his face. Then he turned around to look at Walt, putting his hand on Nate’s thigh, as if to keep the balance.

“Check Gossip Girl to see if it’s a retard free zone. I don’t feel like dealing with idiots today. Person’s filling that quota just fine.”

That made Evan frown and look at Nate.

“You use Gossip Girl? I thought you hated that website.”

“The loss of privacy is annoying, yes,” Fick admitted.

“All the other forms of stalking are illegal though,” Ray added with a wicked grin that made Evan think he knew that from experience.

“It’s like this, dog.” Poke leaned towards Evan, like he was telling him a secret. “The gossipmonger is going to post about every little detail of our lives whether we like it or not. We can either embrace it and use it to our advantage, or move to New Jersey.” Poke’s disgust at the idea of moving from the Upper East Side was clear.

“The coast is clear, as far as I can tell,” Walt reported and closed the laptop without bothering to turn it off first.

Brad looked at Nate, who nodded.

“Alright gang, let’s change venues.”

 

\- -  
 _Spotted:  
Our favorite Norse God facing off with the God of Football at Barrio Chino. Is Iceman going to war? Will QB declare yet another victory? I smell WMDs in the air, Upper East Side style._

They arrived at Barrio Chino in no time. Evan supposed it helped to have their own limo. He looked around while the other boys made their way to the table they deemed fit. He wanted to see what kind of attention they got, only to be surprised to see maybe two people reaching for their cell phones. Alerting Gossip Girl, no doubt.

But it wasn’t long after they had placed their orders when new patrons arrived. Evan wouldn’t have even noticed them if Ray hadn’t muttered a curse.

“Fucking Encino Man. Great. There goes my fucking appetite.”

Evan frowned. He wasn’t familiar with that particular nickname, and he thought he’d memorized all the monikers Gossip Girl used. He turned to follow Person’s gaze and all he saw was Craig Schwetje, star of the school’s football team, creatively named QB by the online blog.

“Hasser, I thought you said the coast was clear?” Brad glared at Walt. Person’s attention immediately moved from Schwetje to Brad. Ray punched his best friend in the arm and scowled.

“Hey! Don’t go blaming my Walt. He’s the most awesome thing I’ve discovered since alcohol, but he’s not a mind reader. There was no way he could’ve known fucking Encino Man was going to decide to follow us here!”

There was that nickname again. Encino Man. And here he thought Ray Person called everybody by the names awarded to them by Gossip Girl. It didn’t seem to be the case with QB.

But before he could ask Ray about that inconsistency a shadow fell over their table. Which was a rather dramatic way of saying that Craig, QB, or Encino Man, whatever name he went by, walked up to the table they were occupying and stopped.

“Anything we can help you with, Craig?” Brad’s voice was calm, cold even. He was polite, but there was something in his tone that made Evan feel threatened, even if Brad’s attention wasn’t on him. In that moment, he understood why Brad Colbert was called the Iceman and his hands itched to grab a pen and write down that thought.

He didn’t dare though. Instead he was stuck, a silent witness to the exchange.

He saw Schwetje’s shoulders tense up, the other boy had clearly heard the same note Evan had.

“I wanted to talk to Fick, actually. Didn’t know I’d have to run it by you first,” he responded. He pushed his chin out, trying for that alpha male air of confidence that came to Brad naturally. He turned to Nate and raised his eyebrow.

Nate made a move as if he wanted to get up, but Brad put his hand on Nate’s thigh. From his spot at the table Evan could see Brad’s knuckles whiten, as he pressed his hand hard against Nate’s leg, holding him in place.

To his credit, Nate didn’t say anything, didn’t even argue. Evan’s gut was telling him that there was more of a story behind this situation that he wasn’t privy to. But judging from the general tension, everybody else knew enough to nervously glance between Brad and Craig.

“You don’t. In fact I clearly remember telling you this already, at the end of last year. Too many hits in the head must’ve damaged what little brain you do have, so I’ll be kind and repeat it. You won’t talk or even see Nate if I can help it.”

“And yet, here I am,” Craig replied, his expression smug, like he just won the battle.

Brad just smirked.

“I guess there are drawbacks to the fact that you’re so insignificant on the Upper East Side that Gossip Girl doesn’t cover you extensively enough for me to know your every move.”

It was meant as an insult, Evan knew that much. Judging from everybody’s expressions, they knew it too. And yet, Schwetje didn’t seem to take it that way. Instead, he laughed.

“Really Brad? You base your information off of some online blog that’s probably ran by a freshman with too much time on her hands? No wonder you never got anywhere…”

“There’s no need for this, Craig,” Nate’s voice was quiet and collected, but he didn’t have to raise his for everybody to turn their attention to him.

“I didn’t start this Nate. It’s not my fault you turned into Colbert’s little lap dog. I hope you do realize that your novelty is slowly wearing out. Soon the situation will be back to normal, you’ll be insignificant again and then… we’ll discuss our _issues_ ,” Schwetje’s tone was light and almost conversational, but it clearly pushed just the right buttons.

Brad managed to stand up all the way from his chair so fast that nobody registered the movement until the table shook as he bumped into it. Evan was pretty sure he’d jump Craig right there and then, but Nate grabbed his arm and held him in place.

Evan couldn’t help but notice the staggering difference between Nate’s action and Brad’s gesture to keep Nate seated, just mere minutes before. Where Brad had been almost pushing Nate into the chair, his hand clearly clenching around Nate’s thigh, Nate was barely even touching Brad. He wasn’t pulling Brad back, he wasn’t even putting any force into his touch. He just put his hand on Brad’s arm, and that was enough.

“I forgot to print out my assignments for tomorrow,” Nate said turning his attention completely to Brad. “Could you give me a ride home?”

Brad kept watching Craig with open hostility a few more seconds, and then he finally turned to Nate.

“Yeah, sure. We can ditch this place.” he reached to his pocket and threw some bills onto the table, not bothering to check if it covered the order. Evan did though, and it was more than enough to cover everybody’s order.

“Probably the right choice,” Poke agreed, standing up as well and positioning himself between Schwetje and his friends. “You go ahead, I’ll clear everything with the waitress.”

Everybody left, Brad and Nate leading the way, followed by an uncharacteristically quiet Ray who was holding onto his Walt like he was a lifeline, then Evan and finally Poke.

They didn’t go straight to the car that was parked just a few yards from them, in clear violation of the law, but instead they kept walking.

Evan could sense the tension in the air as they walked. Finally, he could hear Nate say ‘calm down, Brad,’ and it surprised him. He would’ve thought Brad was merely irritated by what happened at Barrio Chino, but apparently Nate could read Brad better.

There had to be something to Nate’s voice too, something Evan couldn’t hear, because it made Brad stop, grab Nate’s arm and look at him for a long moment.

“Nate…”

“I know, Brad,” Nate assured him without even waiting for what was no doubt a painful confession, judging from Brad’s face.

They kept the intense eye contact for a while longer and Evan once again felt like he was intruding on something extremely intimate. He watched Brad raise his hand and cup the back of Nate’s neck. He dug his fingers into Nate’s skin, as if to make sure Nate was real and solid. The tension in Brad’s entire body was obvious. When he took his hand away, Evan could see red bruises on Nate’s skin, but the other boy wasn’t complaining.

Evan was so surprised by the emotions Brad clearly tried to control that he almost missed a quick exchange of glances between Ray and Poke.

“You know what, homes. You should head home. Do unspeakable things to each other. Relax.” Ray walked up to his friends and patted Brad on the shoulder.

“What about you guys?” Brad asked but it was clear he was only half interested in the answer.

“Well. I’m going to drag Walt into the nearest alley and do filthy, amoral things to him. Poke is probably going to take Reporter and introduce him to his unattainable pussy, in hopes that being a so-called patron of the arts will help him finally tap that. Would you like a more detailed account of our plans? Because I have an entire list of things I want to do to my Walt tonight.”

That made Brad chuckle, which immediately lightened the atmosphere.

“Not if you want me to respect Hasser in the morning,” he said and nodded to everybody before heading for the limo.

Nate stayed a moment longer looking at Ray with something resembling a grateful smile. Ray dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The rest of them stood there and watched Brad and Nate get into the limo and drive off to wherever they were heading.

“You know what, dog? Encino Man is going to push too hard one day and we’ll be stuck either helping Brad hide the body or getting him the best lawyer in the country. Either way, we’ll be putting shitloads of money down the drain.”

Evan watched Poke move to stand right next to Ray. They couldn’t be more different, from looks to personalities. But at that very moment, Evan thought he saw exactly why they’d become friends in the first place.

“Not unless we do something about it. You know what they say in football…about offense being the best defense, or some shit like that…”

“Guys, are you planning something?” Evan asked before he could help it. Drawing attention to himself at a moment like that wasn’t the best choice, but what was done was done and he suddenly found himself flanked by Ray and Poke, with Walt watching the entire thing curiously.

“You don’t really want the answer to that, Reporter.” Poke put his arm around Evan’s shoulder.

“At least not until you ask yourself what you want more. Because you can take what you’re going to hear here right now and put it in your little expose, or you can still have a job tomorrow,” Ray laid it out to him as if he was explaining basic math problem to somebody who should’ve already know it.

“Or you could choose to be impartial and go the fuck away. But then again, being impartial would mean you’re no longer part of our little club…”

“…which would mean no exposes anyway.”

“It’s your choice, Reporter.”

In a way, it was quite scary to listen to Ray and Poke finish each other’s sentences and speak in such unison. Evan couldn’t help but think that they had given a speech like that on more than one occasion; that Evan wasn’t the first person they’d given such an ultimatum to.

“I’m in,” he said, although it really didn’t feel like much of a choice. Not really.

It did make both Ray and Poke smile though. Even Walt smiled, although his smile looked more apologetic.

Poke patted Evan on the back and turned his attention to Ray. He reached into his pocket and handed Ray his cell phone.

“You want to do the honors, Joshua?”

Ray put his hand on his chest.

“Now I know you truly love me, Anthony,” he said, took the cell phone and proceeded to enthusiastically type.

“What are you doing?” Evan asked, not really understanding what was going on, millions of ideas popping into his head; from Ray arranging a prank on Craig to him ordering a team of assassins.

“We, my friend,” Poke smiled, “are sending a tip to Gossip Girl.”

Ray pressed a final button and Poke’s cell emitted a loud ping, informing everybody that the message was sent successfully.

“You see, homes, Encino Man doesn’t read Gossip Girl. Everybody else does, though.” They exchanged a look again and Evan somehow knew they would start finishing each other’s thoughts again.

“The students, because she provides the latest gossip and the teachers to monitor the current situation they, after all, have to control. And in the end, everything gets back to the parents as well, because nobody can keep a really good secret to themselves...”

“And Craig’s situation isn’t really very solid. He’s a football star, true, but without a football scholarship, his parents will have to buy him a spot in a good college, because he’s not the brightest…”

“So all it takes is a one, good gossip. A shadow of doubt.”

“Then, when he fails a completely random drug test happening coincidentally after a big party, we’re going to be there to take pictures of his fall.”

“And what a glorious fall it’s going to be.”

They exchanged satisfied grins over Evan’s shoulders when everybody’s cell phones announced a message.

Evan looked down and saw a Gossip Girl blast.

 _Good afternoon Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here. Your one and only source to the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite._

 _What a truly juicy tidbit I have for you today._

 _It turns out that our ripped hero, the God of Football, is worshipping at an alter belonging to another deity, and his healthy lifestyle is just a smoke screen, hiding a dark and dangerous habit._

 _Did he really sell his soul to the devil? Is his temperament really caused by ‘roid rage? I love to watch a good drama unfold, but I’m afraid playtime’s over. Your secret’s out, QB. We might have to come up with a new nickname for you._

 _Remember children, drugs are bad, just say no._

 _Xoxo  
Gossip Girl_

Poke snorted at that and put his cell back in his pocket.

“Xoxo motherfucker,” he laughed a cruel laugh. “Xoxo.”


End file.
